If You Give a Captain a Mandalorian
by D'raekmus
Summary: After a Hyperdrive failure, a Mandalorian commando finds himself in Mithril -literally. Now surmounted with a debt, he must now prove his worth to his new superior officers. But, a mercenary is still a mercenary. Will he honor his contract, or will he betray them for a larger pay sum? Only time will tell if he is loyal... or treacherous.
1. Chapter 1

"Warning! Damage to hyperdrive!" An LE-series repair droid reported from the copilot seat of the Amphibious Interstellar Assault Transport/infantry, as the Mandalorian pilot growled. Like the droid, his armor was black, but had red streaks around the seams.

His unruly brown hair fluttered in the circulated air, as his equally chocolate eyes ran through the alarms, before shutting them all off.

"Doesn't matter. This old bird's tougher than that. Punch it!" he ordered, as the stars began to streak in pseudomotion.

But... something was wrong, as the stars warped, and an explosion, a flash of light... then a planet.

"Hyperdrive failure detected. Unable to establish a connection with any known communications. Hyperdrive compass unable to lock on Galactic Center." The droid droned, as the Mandalorian sighed.

"That's impossible... unless..." he pulled out a datapad, quickly scanning through a series of equations.

"Unless the hyperdrive warped us into an alternate dimension." he muttered, as the droid beeped.

"It does appear that way, master Belmont."

"Scan that planet. Find us a starport below-" he began, as the lights suddenly shut off.

"Damn it! Of all the times to crash, the onboard system picks **now**?" The mercenary raged, as the ship plunged to the planet below."

* * *

"Try to reboot the system, Tau. We need con-" the Mandalorian began, as the ship lurched, slamming his head into the control panel, knocking him unconscious.

When he came to, the Mandalorian found himself chained to a chair, sitting in front of a small table. The single hanging light barely illuminated the furniture, leaving the mercenary unable to gauge the size of the room.

"State your name for the record." a heavyset man in a business suit, his face obscured by the dim lighting, said from across the table.

_An interrogation. Great. What happened while I was unconscious?_

"Drake." he replied curtly.

"Last name?"

"Belmont."

The man leaned forward, showing an image of the crashed starship.

"Are you the owner of this... aircraft?"

Drake shrugged.

"You could say that."

The man frowned.

"Are you affiliated with an organization called 'Amalgam'?"

The Mandalorian leaned back as far as his chains would let him.

"I've been involved with a number of organizations: Black Sun, Zann Consortium, Hutt Cartel, I can't keep track of them all."

The man bent down, grabbing the man's gauntleted hand, threatening to break one of his fingers.

"Answer the question. Are you involved with Amalgam!"

Drake smirked, unafraid of such pitiful injuries.

"No. Unless I was subcontracted."

"Then what motive did you have in crashing your... vehicle into our HQ?"

The Mandalorian shrugged.

"Coincidence. I lost control in orbit. Last thing I remember is giving a Keldable kiss to my control panel. Next thing I know, I'm in this interrogation room."

The man turned away, looking towards the darkness.

"So, this was all an accident? A little... convenient."

"Poodoo happens."

"What is your occupation?"

Drake shrugged.

"Mercenary, soldier for hire, bounty hunter, pilot, gunrunner, you name it, I've likely done it."

"Would you be interested in working for Mithril, for a time?"

The Mandalorian shrugged again.

"Depends. Is the pay good?"

"Depends on how good you are."

"I'm a Mandalorian. My service won't come cheap."

"Six months service, and we'll forgive your little incident."

Drake paused, deep in thought.

_Not much choice: they possess the Phoenix, although... if I can get ahold of my comm, I could summon my Bes'uliik and fight my way through the base. Best play along, however... knocking a few heads isn't going to raise some questions, though._

"Name your job." he said, crossing his arms as best he could with the chains.

The lights turned on, as a young woman, about seventeen years of age, Drake guessed. Her silver hair and eyes reflected a keen interest. Yet her gait seemed... hesitant.

"Depending on your skills, we have a number of positions. What kind of skills does being a... you said a Mandalorian? What kind of skills do you have?"

Drake coughed, as he indicated the chains.

"Care to remove these for me, please?"

The woman nodded, as a man stepped forwards, undoing the chains.

"So, judging by your uniform, you're an officer, correct?" he asked, briefly rubbing his wrists, trying to get feeling into them.

The woman nodded, as Drake suddenly overpowered the man, grabbing his gun, and with one quick motion, held the woman against his chest, training the weapon on her temple.

"Drop your weapons. One false move, and I'll spill her brains all over this room." he ordered, shocking everyone as they complied.

The woman glared at him in fright, as he moved her towards the door.

"Now... where's my ship?" he growled, digging the gun into her side. "Remember, no funny business: one alarm, and I won't have any regrets on turning you into another corpse."

"Then kill me now." she said, looking away in disgust.

Drake frowned, obviously perturbed by the woman's lack of fear.

"Don't bother being a hero. I can see your fear. Don't worry, though: I don't plan on actually killing you if things go right. You're a valuable person to this organization. Besides, it's not honorable to kill an unarmed opponent."

The woman looked up in shock, as the man nodded towards a fork in the corridor.

"Which way, miss..."

"Thugs like you don't deserve my name."

The man growled, as he pulled the woman's ear close to his mouth.

"I'm. Not. Just. A. Thug! I. Am. A. Mandalorian." he hissed. "I am an honorable mercenary, not just some street punk. It would do you well to remember this, _ad'ika_. Now, let's try this again, your name, captain?"

"Testarossa."

"Eh, that'll do. Now, Miss Testarossa, could you tell me where I can find my ship?"

"Level 17, north hangar."

"Anything touched or removed?"

The woman shook her head.

"We can't open it. We had to get two of our M9s to haul it to the hangar."

Drake nodded, as they boarded an elevator.

"I'm surprised you haven't tried to put up a fight. Why is that?"

The captain looked away.

"I'd rather not talk about it. Especially to a thug like you."

Drake scoffed, keeping his temper in check, as he checked the numbers.

"Listen, you wanted to know my skills. Once we're in the most secure place, I'll tell you some of my abilities. The most secure place would be my ship, since I have enough jammers to block out any communications or sniffers."

Testarossa looked at the mercenary, trying to discern his true nature.

"So, this entire hostage situation..."

"Is simply a charade. But I'll explain better once we're on my ship."

* * *

Onboard the ship, Testarossa looked around, admiring the technology, as Drake tapped a few buttons.

"Would you like some tea, Miss Testarossa?" he said, opening a compartment. "I think I've got some Anisonian tea left somewhere around here."

The young woman nodded, as the man pulled back out, setting up a small black kettle, and began brewing the beverage. She was mildly surprised that, despite having her in a hostage situation, he didn't try to bind her. Nor did he drop the courtesy title. It wasn't even in a mocking voice; it was as if he genuinely wanted her to feel relaxed, like this was a casual thing, not like the last incident... on the _Danaan_.

"Well, as far as skills, you've seen two so far: hostages and escape tactics. Yet, I've taken you here to talk, not to hold you for ransom. I give you my word. After this talk, you're more than welcome to take me back into custody and imprisonment. I did crash a massive starship into the side of your HQ, after all."

Testarossa nodded, as a sweet-smelling aroma filled the air, relaxing the captain.

"Well, since this is just a talk, I guess it should be alright to call me by my first name: Teletha, although my friends just call me Tessa."

Drake smirked, as he poured a cup of the black liquid, handing it to the captain.

"Well, Teletha... I'm more competent than I look. Think about it: I have you in my hand, yet I had no interest in wresting control or committing acts of terrorism. Normally, I'd just leave, but your group..." He was silent for several minutes, as he sipped his tea, with the captain following suit, noting the sweet taste, with just a tiny tang.

"What about Mithril?" she asked.

"Well... your people are weak. Where I come from, I would have been overpowered by the hostage. Which leads me to my next question: why didn't you put up a fight?"

Teletha shrugged, staring into the inky depths of the tea.

"The truth is... I'm quite uncoordinated. I can't hope to overpower someone like you." she explained, looking down.

"I can't even take five steps without tripping."

Drake looked her over, before letting out a laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm often beat by my younger sister... and she's half my size. She can't even hold her balance on a beam for very long. Give me another excuse."

Testarossa looked at the Mandalorian in shock, as he stood up, moving to another cupboard.

"Anyways, it seems that your group needs some competent people. I think I'll stick around a while."

The woman started.

"I don't think you can just join up with us!" she retorted, slamming the cup down forcefully.

Drake smirked, as he turned from the kitchen, offering a simple potted meat to the woman.

"I think your superior officers will say otherwise: I just performed an escape from your facility, with no loss of life, and, above all, with no prior knowledge of the building's structure. I even kidnapped a high-ranking officer to boot."

Teletha looked him over again, trying to gauge his character.

"How will I know you won't betray us to another organization that offers you more money?"

Drake snorted.

"I see you need some extra reassurance. Very well. I'll give you the self-destruct code for my ship. Should I betray you, you have my full permission to destroy my ship and all its contents. That enough collateral? Everything I own is in here."

The woman thought for a moment, before nodding in approval.

"Then it's settled. I'll sign my six month contract, and I'll give you my security codes."

* * *

Drake frowned, as he reread the contract.

"Security detail?" he asked in disbelief. "You have a natural-born warrior, and you want me in a position any amateur to fill?"

The older man nodded, adjusting his glasses.

"That's correct, Ensign Belmont. If you have any objections, you may refer to your superior officer."

Drake shrugged, as he pointed to a subsection.

"If I'm reading this right, I am not allowed to use any of my weaponry. Only Mithril-mandated ordinance, right?"

"That is correct."

Drake shook his head, tapping his breastplate.

"You can take my guns, you can take my detonators, you can keep my ship impounded. But the armor stays. I'm a hired hand, not an enlisted soldier."

The man's frown deepened.

"Already disobeying orders?"

"Just altering the terms. My armor's like a second skin, see? To wear anything else would be... disadvantageous for all of us."

"Very well, ensign. I'll see what I can do. But we can't have you using your guns. Only Mithril weapons, understood?

The Mandalorian shrugged.

"Doesn't make any difference to me, but I'm not sure that will take full advantage of my abilities."

The commander's frown deepened again.

"The captain will make that decision, ensign."

"Very well. Just out of curiosity, who is the fleet captain I'm serving?"

The door opened, as a silver-haired woman walked in, smiling at the new subordinate. Drake did a double-take.

"Oh, Hell...o Captain Testarossa."

* * *

A/N: I wonder why nobody made this. After all, what could be more fun than merging Star Wars and Full Metal Panic! I plan to widen out this cross at a later date, but right now, I want to keep things low key and focus on a single Mandalorian stuck on Earth. If you look closely, you can guess what era I'm going with. Get ready for some real fun in the future. Just bear with me through this initial arc, ok? We'll eventually get to the point of Arm Slaves against the Dark Lord soon enough.

As always, I'm open to ideas, and would love to see any suggestions for this. Reviews would also be appreciated (again, anonymous reviews are always allowed.)


	2. Chapter 2

"So, this is the _Tuatha de Danaan_." Drake commented, looking across the small submarine bridge. "Seems fairly secure."

He pulled a black metal helmet over his head, the T-shaped glass visor glowing slightly red, as the HUD adjusted to the light, uplinking with the _Danaan_'s computer systems, giving him a constant feed of any part of the ship.

Teletha frowned, looking away.

"Well... we had a small... incident about a while back." she began, "One man and two traitors managed to take over our sub and nearly caused an international incident."

Drake nodded.

"Don't worry. You've got a Mandalorian on your side. Even if a similar man shows up, he'll have to kill me first. And I don't die easily." he smirked, as he adjusted his tactical shotgun, a bizarre weapon he had insisted upon. His voice crackled, distorted slightly by the helm's vocabulator.

"Is that why you picked the shotgun, Ensign? Instead of a standard pistol?"

The Mandalorian nodded.

"Considering the close quarters, and the way these old slugthrowers work, a shotgun's spread would be effective at close range. Plus, being able to use it as a club when I run out of ammunition makes it a perfect choice, though my vibroknuckler is my preferred weapon in melee."

Teletha nodded, before resuming her position.

"Our next mission is on one of the outlying islands. We received a tipoff about a terrorist organization trying to get ahold of of a chemical processing facility. They plan to control the nerve gas disposed there as a weapon."

Drake nodded, his helmet displaying the tactical information for him, having been calibrated to operate with their system.

"Seems like a standard fight. Captain, I request that I join your troopers on this mission."

"Denied, ensign. Your duty is security detail, not battling our opponents."

Drake frowned, shouldering his shotgun.

"As you wish."

The Mandalorian frowned, as he noticed something.

"May I ask something, captain?"

Teletha nodded.

"Nerve gas like this is fairly easy to produce. Why would a bunch of pirates go through the effort to grab something as easily manufactured as this? To be quite honest, it seems almost like a trap..."

The captain shrugged.

"That's what I suspect as well. That's why we're sending in our Special Response Team. They'll spring the trap, and we can see exactly why these terrorists picked the target."

Drake watched silently as several of the Arm Slaves fought: the more advanced M9s against the RK-92s used by mercenaries. At least, that was what the data given to him by the sub's computer indicated.

"I wonder why they haven't tried scavenging some of your Arm Slaves. Assuming that I'm looking at the right schematics of this... Savage Arm Slave, your Gernsback is far more advanced. Tech this advanced usually winds up on the black market."

The commander turned, taking over the role of explainer for the captain.

"We have countermeasures to ensure such events don't happen, Ensign Belmont. Whenever an M9 is damaged beyond repair, we bombard it and destroy the components."

Drake nodded, opening the action on his shotgun, checking the barrel.

"Even with those kinds of checks, there's always a chance for something to wind up intact. Even Mandalorian equipment surfaces on the black market every now and then. And we take our stuff to the grave."

The commander coughed, as the Mandalorian's helm scanned him.

_Commander Richard Mardukas, second-in-command of the _Tuatha De Danaan._ Further information downloading into datapad._

"Regardless, engisn. We take every precaution necessary. Hence why you're kept under watch."

"Hmm... still don't trust me. Commendable." Drake stated, turning back to the unfolding battle.

"Is everything alright, Ensign Belmont? Were you able to uplink your computer to DANA?" the captain asked, as the Mandalorian nodded silently.

"It's... sufficient for the time. I will need greater access later to perform my job better, but I can perform my primary task as outlined by my contract just as well with the current authorization."

Tessa nodded.

"_Contract? Is that all that's keeping him in check? Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to bring him... He could betray us to Amalgam."_

"This is Urzu-1! We are engaging the enemy and- what the?" The comm crackled, as the still image of a black Arm Slave appeared next to the comm, before changing to the live feed, showing a strange blue Arm Slave.

_Data insufficient. Unable to identify unknown Arm Slave._

"A Venom..." Tessa muttered, as an explosion rang on the ship.

In shock, she turned to the damage report, showing the starboard side had been breached by an unknown force.

"A boarding party on the capital ship while the forces are tied up elsewhere... impressive." Drake commented, pumping the first round of ammunition into his shotgun.

"Clearly this isn't just some smuggling ring or group of thugs. This might actually be a decent fight."

Another explosion rocked the ship, as Drake crouched by the bulkhead.

"Captain, this group will likely make their way to either the Arm Slave hangar, or the command center. It's likely a hijacking, since their boarding pods are closer to the bridge than the hangar."

Tessa nodded, taking a deep breath.

"What's your decision, Security specialist?"

Drake frowned.

"Have your men offer typical resistance, but have them minimize casualties to themselves. I'll deal with the ones that try to get to the bridge."

Mardukas glared skeptically at the ensign.

"Is this considered security in your country?"

"Never been a security guard before."

The commander turned to the captain, who sighed.

"I have no strategy for this. They managed to get past our ECS. They knew we'd be here." Tessa said. "We just have to trust Belmont. I hope these Mandalorians are as tough as he says."

"Oh, we are... and then some." He said, before opening the hatch.

"Activate infrared sensors. Prepare for low light mode." He said, before closing the hatch behind them.

"Opening comm for constant contact with bridge. If anything goes wrong, you'll know immediately."

Mardukas' frown deepened, as Tessa opened up a security camera in the hallway.

"What's he got planned? Even if he has Black Technology in that ridiculous armor, there's no way he can stand against two platoons. Not even Sergeant Sagara is that skilled." he commented, as the captain tilted her head, a strange melody filling the speakers.

"Taung!" Drake began, his voice barely an audible whisper, firing a shot into an approaching soldier.

"Sa... rang... Broka." he continued singing, each word increasing in volume and intensity, timing the shots to the beat of the strange war song.

"Mando'ade ka'rta." Suddenly, he began beating the butt of the shotgun against his armor, as a makeshift drum.

"What kind of song is this, commander?" Tessa asked, feeling strangely incensed by the tune.

"It appears to be some kind of war song. The tune seems to be invigorating." the commander's foot began to tap to the beat of the soldier's singing.

Tessa continued to watch as the man continued fighting, his movements in tune to the beat.

"Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu," Drake practically shouted, firing several more shots, keeping perfect time with the tune.

Tessa concealed a smile.

"It's almost like he's... dancing." she giggled, as Mardukas nodded, adjusting his glasses.

"It would appear he is. Truly unorthodox."

"Manda'yiam kandosii adu!" the song continued, as he dropped the shotgun, depleted of ammo, and fired from a pair of glock pistols, still in tune with the song.

"This song... is it helping him?" Tessa wondered aloud, as the last few soldiers fell, the song coming to an abrupt end as the last man hit the ground.

Drake breathed heavily, as if he was worn from the fight, disengaging the hatch, and stepping in.

"Well... that was a little more fun than I expected. May the souls of those brave soldiers find peace in _Manda_. May their families remember them. I know I will. They still put up a good fight."

He tromped in, before removing his helmet, revealing his sweat-stained face. He sighed, breathing in the cool air of the bridge.

"I apologize for taking so long. I'm used to a blaster, not this slugthrower. I also ran out of ammo, so I had to depend on the backup pistols for a time."

Tessa tilted her head.

"What was that song you were singing? It seemed to be some kind of war song."

Drake frowned, leaning against the control panel.

"Well, it's an old Mandalorian War song. In Basic, it translates to 'Rage of the Shadow Warriors'. Where I come from, it's often used as a war chant to build up our spirit. If you want, maybe I can do a report on the translated version. But, well... Mando'a has some translation problems. For example, Kandosii can mean ruthless and brutal, as well as indomitable and noble."

Tessa nodded, closing her eyes.

"So those words... they were... Mando'a."

Drake smirked.

"That's right. If you want, I could teach you some. It's easy to pick up. Plus, I bet it could come in handy should security ever be... compromised."

The Mandalorian turned towards the door.

"If you don't mind, I would like to return to my room. I have some things I need to analyze."

Tessa nodded.

"Like how could the boarding pods have hit us at such close range. How could they bypass our scanners?"

Drake nodded, as the captain frowned.

"I think it would be best if you were moved to a temporary safe house. At least, until I can analyze why the _Danaan _was unable to detect those pods. Commander, could you give me all information regarding the geological structure of the ocean floor, as well as information about aquatic cloaking devices?"

The commander nodded.

"I will get them immediately."

Drake nodded.

"Good, I'll be in my quarters, then. Will they be in a digital format?"

Mardukas nodded.

"Of course, ensign. I look forward to your report."

Tessa nodded, turning towards the bridge controls.

"I think Belmont's right: I will go to a safe house for the time being. I wonder how Sergeant Sagara's doing."

The commander balked.

"Now, Captain..."

"There's no safer house than Sagara's. Besides, with him and Belmont on the watch, do we really have anything to worry about? I mean, Belmont just held off both platoons. Do we really need to worry?"

Mardukas tried to come up with an argument, but stopped.

"Very well, captain. If you're certain."

Drake nodded.

"Japan, right?"

Mardukas nodded.

"urban?"

Tessa nodded.

"In that case..." Drake scratched his chin. "I will need two pieces of equipment: my jetpack and R3-X5."

Tessa glanced at the Mandalorian. "What are your reasons?"

"I've have several dangerous mission in urban planets, like Taris and Coruscant. Greater mobility with the jetpacks would allow me to have the height advantage, as well as maneuverability."

"And the... R3-X5?"

"My personal droid. An R3 astromech. Originally designed for military applications. I've used him multiple times as an analysis unit. Besides, I think he's getting a little lonely without anyone to pester. Having myself, the captain, and the sergeant will likely make him feel a little more at home than stuck on my ship."

Tessa nodded, closing her eyes.

"In that case, your equipment is approved, ensign. We need to go to Merida Island for repairs, anyways."

"Ensign? A private word."

"Yes, sir."

Mardukas closed the hatch, gingerly stepping over the corpses littering the hall.

"As you know, the captain is... delicate."

Drake nodded.

"She may be the captain of this submarine, but she's still a teenager. Ah, I remember those years quite well... So full of hormones and emotions..." The mercenary sighed. "Worst. Experience. Ever."

The commander's face twitched at the corners.

"Then you must understand what I'm about to tell you. The captain... well, she has... a fixation on this particular sergeant."

Drake nodded in comprehension.

"I take it Mithril has strict policies against fraternizing with coworkers?"

The commander nodded.

"That is correct, Ensign Belmont. I want you to make sure nothing... untoward happens to the captain. Do you understand?"

Drake nodded.

"Yes, sir. However, I have one question: what if the opposite happens? What if the captain makes an untoward move to Sergeant Sagara?"

Mardukas' frown deepened.

"Try to restrain her. There's no telling what may happen if you do, so be prepared for anything."

Drake saluted.

"Of course, sir! I will now retire to my bunk."

The commander returned the salute.

"Good luck, ensign."

* * *

Drake sat down on his bunk, before pulling out a small black box. Placing it down on a night stand, he pressed a button.

Immediately, the holographic image of Tau flickered to life.

"Greetings at this late hour, Master."

"Same to you, Tau. How are things on the _Phoenix_?"

The droid shook its head.

"Not good, I'm afraid. The sublight engines are burned out. It will take quite some time to repair them. The repulsors, however, are still intact. However, the reactor core will need materials we cannot obtain at this time."

Drake growled, before an idea struck him.

"I'll see if I can get a palladium reactor to use. How's Exfive holding up?"

"I've had to lock him in the restroom. He's getting bored with sitting around, and keeps hearing the chatter of the Mithril operatives."

"Get him ready for departure when I get to the base. I need him for a special mission."

"Affirmative, sir."

"Now, tell me, Tau..." Drake said, his face darkening, "How goes the download of all of Mithril's data?"

* * *

A/N: I suggest you look up "Dha Werda Verda" on youtube, to truly understand how intense this song can be.

I'll tell you right now, I do have several arcs planned. This one is only at the beginning, but I'm trying to hurry the story as best I can to introduce the next arc. Right now, I'm trying to focus on Drake's interactions with Mithril and its operatives.

I do wonder how he'll treat a certain sergeant...


End file.
